Child of Light
by Jasmine Clearchilde
Summary: After hearing the prophesy, Lily begins to work on a spell to send Harry to another universe and escape the chains of fate that bind him. Determined to send Harry to another version of herself she calls upon a higher force for help. And the Red God answers. In the Game of Thrones, you live or you die. But what plans do the gods weave? Rating will rise later, probably
1. Chapter 1

Jasmine's Notes! 3! This is my first attempt at fanfiction! I grew up with Harry Potter, and I love Game of Thrones, I'm currently reading Book 1, so don't spoil nothing for me please! I've been a long time reader, but never really wrote anything of my own, so I decided to try it. I found some inspiration from whitetigerwolf's challenge 'Alternate Lily' and decided to use it as the bases for this story. I hope you all like it, and I would really like to see some reviews telling me what I can do better and work on and stuff! I'll post the challenge below and hope you all enjoy!

Love Jasmine!

* * *

**ALTERNATE LILY CHALLENGE**

**Requirements:**

- As part of her plan to save Harry, Lily must send Harry to an alternate universe. Specifically, to an alternate version of herself to be raised.

- As part of her plan to save Harry, Lily must send her memories to the Alternate version of her

- (If the technology or magic of the world Lily send Harry to permits) It must be verified that Harry is biologically the alternate Lily's child, even if they are different species.

- Lily's alternate must be female and have red hair, green eyes, or both (If the character you want to use doesn't meet this requirement, I suggest changing their eyes to green, as it's a relatively minor detail). The exception to this rule is if hair or eyes were changed from their original color somehow (Example: You use Rosalie from Twilight as Lily's alternate. She has blonde hair and golden eyes, but her eyes are gold because she's a vampire. You can simply say that, as a human, she had green eyes)

- Harry Cannot be in a M/M relationship

- IF Harry returns to his home universe, whether temporary or permanently, the Alternate Lily must go with him. (Whether he actually returns or not is up to you)

- Regardless of what universe Harry ends up in, he must still have magic, though it can be interpreted as something else (Example: Harry ends up in the Star Wars universe, his magic can be interpreted as being The Force)

**Recommended: **

- FemHarry

- FemSlash

- Lily sending her soul to her alternate, which merges with the alternate.

(Characters I would like to see as the Alternate Lily, and what world they're in)

- Rosalie/Twilight

- Victoria/Twilight

- Aayla Secura/Star Wars

- Demona/Gargoyles

- Fox/Gargoyles

- Kathryn Janeway/Star Trek

- Hawkgirl/DC Comics

- Artemis of Bana-Mighdgall/DC Comics

- Posion Ivy/DC Comics

- Starfire/DC Comics

- Jean Grey/Marvel

- She-Hulk/Marvel

- Black Widow/Marvel

- Hera/Percy Jackson

- Artemis/Percy Jackson

- Maleficent/Disney

* * *

Now! Onto the Story!

* * *

Lily Potter was a woman who had studied, she had delved deeply into the magics of Hogwarts and the secret society of witches and wizards, and the muggle sciences. The library housed at the tiny cottage in Godric's Hollow had to be expanded multiple times just to fit the volumes of texts the copper haired which had poured through. Her need to study was not for the better of mankind, but for a far more personal reason, the safety of her only son.

When she had first learned of the possibility of her son being the one of prophecy to bring about the fall of the Dark Lord, she had at first panicked. Over time though, she had gone to her books out of boredom after her and her family had been self-exiled from the world behind the Fidelius Charm. It was while she was lackadaisically flipping through an experimental physics text from a nearby university that she had caught sight of something to build a plan around. Multiverse Theory.

The idea that there were more than just the world they lived on and more than one variation of herself suddenly gave her hope. If there was more than one world, more than just one of her, than there was a chance for her son to escape the fate pushed onto him. She could give her baby a way out, a way to escape the life and the expectations of the cowardly wizards and witches who would look to him to solve their problems should he indeed defeat Lord Voldemort. The best part of magic as she knew it and science, was they could both be broken down, after all, new spells needed to be invented and the best way to do so was understanding the mathematics behind them.

Her husband could only watch as he believed his wife to be going insane from the stress. The floors and walls of the borrowed home were quickly becoming plastered with sheets of paper and rolls of parchment, covered in numbers and drawings, wand movements and words in languages ranging from English to Latin to Ancient Sumerian. When she wasn't feeding their son she was hard at work, reading and scribbling notes, her brow furrowed and her face and bangs soaked in sweat as she poured over magical and muggle books.

As the days deepened and May fell into June, the writings and mutterings of the copper haired woman seemed to slow and her writing became less scribbles and more elegant and easy to read. Not that James could have made head or tails of what she had written. While he had been a prodigy at transfiguration, his strength lay in the practical side of studies with little interest in theory. The numbers and words on the papers were so foreign to him, they might as well have been written in an alien language. When he woke on the morning of his son and heirs first birthday, the writings were gone, and he found his wife happily baking a cake in the kitchen. Neither mentioned the strange goings on for the past year, one in fear that his wife's insanity could make a return, and the other because she knew he wouldn't understand.

* * *

Halloween Night was a peaceful time for the Potter family. With their house hidden from nearly the entire world, they didn't have to worry about kids coming for candy, or pulling pranks. The small family of three were alone in their home, feeling safe and secure behind their protections and having faith in their secret keeper, Peter Pettigrew. James was seated on the floor laughing and smile with his son as he conjured different colored smoke rings, causing the fifteen month old infant in front of him to bounce and giggle as he tried to grasp them in his hand. The flame haired wife happily kept an eye on her two boys from the kitchen where she was washing up from their dinner.

While she didn't particularly care for the novelty apron her husband and his best friend, Sirius, had gotten for her as a gag gift last Christmas, it was the only one she owned. Oh, how she lamented the tiny waist, and overly endowed chest the apron tried to give her the illusion of having, but as a woman who was still working on losing the 'baby weight' it did help her self-a-steam while she wore it. After she had finished drying the last dish, her green eyes swept back to the living room with a happy smile. "Alright, I think its time for someone to get to bed," she said showing off her brilliant white teeth as she walked into the room while using the apron to dry her hands.

Swooping down, she lifted the giggling baby into her arms, causing him to go quiet in shock for a quick moment before he burst into giggles. "Oh ho, does my baby like it mummy lifts him," she asked as she held him out from her by the armpits and made him rise and fall a few times, causing him to laugh. "I feel sorry for your daddy," she said mischievously as she held little Harry to her chest. "You'll probably be able to out fly by the time your two, even if your broom only goes six inches off the ground."

"Ha, that is where you make your mistake," James said, putting emphasis in his voice like a Shakespearean actor to keep his wife and son amused. "It is the hope of every father that his son will surpass him," he said with a grin as he ran his hand through his already messy hair. "Harry will not only fly better than me, but he'll do everything better. He'll be more powerful than me, pick up more girls than I did, and probably have more friends than me too," the young father said happily.

"Probably," Lily said with a smile as she leaned in and kissed her husband's lips. "Now its time for little boys to get into bed," she said as she began to walk toward the stairs. As she walked she began to hum a soft lullaby to her boy as he stared up at her with eyes of equal green intensity of her own. It seemed to only take a few bars before the pudgy baby was yawning. Once inside the nursery and its walls displaying a happy werewolf dancing and running with a stag, dog and rat friends, she eased the most important person in her life into his crib. "Night night, Harry Bear," she whispered softly as she pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead.

As she stood and made her way to the light switch on the wall, a sudden sound of something being blasted came from the bottom of the stairs. "James, is everything okay," she called down through the door.

"Lily its him! Take Harry and go" her husbands frightened voice called up the stairs in answer. The red head didn't need to ask who, she could tell almost instantly by the flash of green light that filled the stairway and the soft thud of something falling to the ground. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover her scream as she raced into her son's nursery to see him standing in his crib, looking at her in confusion.

Her hand flew underneath the stupid apron she wore, pulling her wand from her waistband where she always kept it. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered, as tears filled her jade colored eyes. Gently she put the tip of her wand to his messy raven hair, listening to the squeak of the steps as the predator outside hunted his prey. "Carus Deus, transporto is parvulus trans vicis, trans tractus quod addo ut tergum ut meus visio. Paro meus filius solvo, quod permissum meus filius orior oriri ortus loco meus filius per quispiam quisnam mos planto meus filius subluceo," she whispered, and stepped back, blocking the cribs view from the doorway.

Three times in her life, Lily Potter had stood across from the Dark Lord, but never before had she felt such fear. Had her spell failed? Harry still stood behind her, his green eyes blinking at the specter of a man who had invaded their home. His pale skin appeared ghastly in the fleurescent light of the hall against his black robes. His lip-less mouth was peeled back in a sneer that showed his graying teeth, like two rows of gravestones stacked atop each other. His nostrils flared flat against his face like a snake's as his crimson eyes took in the sight before him.

"Stand aside girl, your life is not the one I have come to claim. Severus has plans for you," he said with a sickening chuckle.

"No," she said defiantly as she drew her own wand against her attacker, before she tossed it to the side. "We're unarmed, I'm begging you, have mercy," she cried, tears sweeping down her cheeks. "Take me if you have to kill someone, but not Harry. Please not Harry," she begged.

"Stand aside," the Dark Lord growled as he pointed his wand toward the redheaded muggleborn. "Stand aside now and accept the life you'll have as Severus' personal toy," he said, his eyes alighting with merciless joy. "I will not make the offer again, girl. Step aside or die with your bastard son!"

In response, Lily stepped closer to the crib, her arms held out at her sides to block his view. "You can't have him! We've never done anything to you! You can't have Harry! You'll just have to kill me to get to him!"

"Fine..." Voldemort said with a snarl as he took aim. "Avada Kedavra!" The nursery room exploded in green light that extended well beyond the glass windows, as Lily Potter's body was sent backwards, crashing into her son's crib as her lifeless body slid down to the carpeted floor. "Now, there is only you and me," the bald pale figure hissed as he stepped up to dead body of his latest victim and paused, staring into the green eyes of his next casualty. "The child of prophesy will not live long enough to see it come to pass. Avada Kedavra."

The second blast of green light filled the room, as a roaring noise like the sounds of a wind tunnel suddenly permeated the room. The red eyes of the Heir of Slytherin opened wide as a crimson red flame bathed the child in the crib. If one had ever thought they would see the darkest wizard in centuries cower before a babe in his pajamas standing in a crib, they would have probably laughed, but as the crimson fire roared a presence filled the small cottage, a power that dwarfed any magic the Dark Lord had ever felt. Not to be out done, he pushed more power into his spell, forcing the killing curse through the flames, until it licked the boy's forehead.

Instead of falling like his parents though, the child bathed in flames remained unmoved, as the fire roared with new intensity. In shock from the killing curses failure, Voldemort didn't have the fortitude to push his spell back as it flew back at him. His crimson eyes opened wide as he screamed in pain in a way none of his victims had before. He couldn't move, but could literally feel as his body began to burn in the heat of the flames, vaporizing the water in his body as it burned his skin to ash.

As his body crumbled, the spirit of the Dark Lord arose from the black robes as shadow of smoke amongst the flames as it watched the child. The fire now roared across the nursery, burning at the floor, walls and ceiling, but leaving the boy and his mother untouched. Then, from the flames, a shadow emerged, tall and strong unlike Voldemort's own shade. It bent low and scooped up the baby, who stared back in wonder, as the creature, whatever it was, moved to the dead woman and knelt, touching its hand to her brow for the briefest of moments before it stood tall again. Voldemort could only watch as the infant and the creature melded with the fiendfyre like flames, not burning but merging with them, before the flames lost their intensity, and the shade of the Dark Lord was left alone in the nursery that had marked his downfall.

* * *

Melisandre of Asshai woke with a start inside the temple of the One God in Lys where she was currently studying to become a priestess of the God of Fire and Light. Her deep red hair was soaked in sweat, which was odd as she rarely felt the temperature of the elements any more, not since she had been raised from a Slave of R'hllor to a Priestess in Training. Climbing from the hardened bed of steam coals she called a bed, her naked body was bathed in moonlight from the sliver of a window that looked out over the summer sea towards the Basilisk Islands.

As her pale thighs left the coals, the small embers that still smoldered roared to life, turning the darkened shadows of night into the illuminate rays of days. Her cold blue eyes were forced closed by the intensity of the light and heat, and she immediately collapsed to her knees in elation. It seemed the god who had seen fit to lift her up from slavery had come to call upon her.

Her ears though were soon assaulted by the cries of a child, though male or female she could not tell, having not been around many children in her life. That was when she felt it, a pressure inside her mind like a blade fresh from the forge. She cried out in pain as images poured into her mind from life that was not her own. A pale demon with the face of a serpent advancing upon her, a happy marriage in a home of such strange creation filled with magical lamps that burned with fire and the pain of childbirth. A castle standing on the edge of a lake, surrounded by a dark forest filled with monsters that taught the ways of magic in way so beyond the priestesses of the Red God.

Without warning though, the raging inferno inside her mind and that engulfed her bed faded away, leaving the woman gasping for breath. Faintly she could hear the whispers of the priestesses of R'hllor, but she paid them no mind, he had come to her! He had given her a gift beyond imagination and let her know that he was real! Slowly her eyes opened, seeing the hard stone of her room's floor and not remembering having slumped over at any time. Raising her head though, she continued to ignore the red robed women who were moving to check on her and let her eyes fall onto the smoking coals that were now but ash upon the stone. Squirming atop the ash and covered in soot was a child with hair as black as any ravens its eyes scrunched up as it cried out its terror and loss if the memories she had seen were anything to go by.

On hands and knees, the red headed teen girl moved across the floor, ignoring the pain and stinging burns of the hot ash on her palms and shins, as she reached the babe and lifted him into her arms, holding him to her breast. His eyes flew open at the contact as he looked to who held him now and he sighed softly. She didn't need to guess the child's name, she knew it, she had named, no, the other woman had named him, the woman whose life filled her mind's eye. The boy's name was Harry, not really the name for someone from either Westeros, Essos or Sothoryos. He would need a new name, one that honored the Red God who had brought him into this world.

Her mind filled with names, searching through two lifetimes worth of memories as she struggled for a name to give this boy in this new land, hopefully one where she could continue to call him Harry, but as a nickname. Finally, through Lily Potters, her husband must have been a bastard, life she came upon one. A heathen god of fire and steel. "Harphesto," she whispered, butchering the god of another world's name to make it fit with what she wanted. "He shall be Harphesto of Lys, and I shall raise him."


	2. Chapter 2

Jasmine's Warning! This story is DARK, macabre and disturbing in places. This story will reference sex, torture, death, burnings, and everything you could expect after watching Game of Thrones. I won't go into detail as its against FFnet's terms, but it is mentioned, vaguely shown and implied. If this disturbs you, _**TURN AWAY NOW! **_ Do not say that you were not warned!

* * *

Darkened clouds filled the graying sky as wind swept through every tree branch and opened window in Volantis. The song of steel rang out from the courtyard of the temple of R'hllor as the beautiful red head watched from her balcony. Her sheer red dress hugged her beautiful body tightly displaying the curve of her breasts, waist and hips while barely hiding her tantalizing nipples and the folds of her womanhood.

From the balcony of her suite, her blue eyes watched the raven hair of her gift as he moved and flowed like water in a stream around his older and wider opponent. With a flash of steel, their dulled practice blades would rise and fall slamming into one another and sing the song of war. Her pale fingers gently stroked the red stone of the temple, admiring its construction even as it stood like a flame against the darkened sky, even as they itched to disappear inside her garments.

After she had been risen to the title of Priestess, the red headed woman and the child, Harphesto, had left Lys for Volantis to begin the boy's training with the Fiery Hand. He would not be joining the famed thousand though, their Lord had much more planned for the child, and it would be Melisandre's duty to see him raised to it. As the fattened drops of rain began to fall upon the city like tears, the Red Woman as she was quickly becoming called, moved back into her suite, shutting the balcony doors behind her.

She blinked several times to adjust to the gloom of fire light before smiling softly to herself. While she had practiced often, using Lily's memories to guide her hand in the ways of the world's magic, it was a slow and tedious process for her discovery. Magic was just not as ample and powerful in this world as it was in hers, unless you were Harry. Her raven haired child was a magical brute in the making, taking to their lessons on the manipulation of magic quicker than she did.

As her thoughts wandered, she moved to the four poster bed in the back of the room, casually divesting herself of her sheer dress as she slid onto the sheets. Her bare breasts brushing across the silken material causing her pink nipples to darken and tighten up. Her pale skin flickered in the light of the flames from the constantly roaring fireplace as she ran her fingers across her thigh, moaning as her nails scraped the sensitive flesh. One hand continued to rise, reaching for her perk breast as the other spread across her fiery pubic mound.

It had been so long since she had been with a man, not since she was but a girl under the rule of her master, before the One God saved her. As a priestess she was free to be with whom she wanted, but each time she went to lay with a man, she would stop short, as the vision of green eyes plagued her mind. She was desperate for relief though, she wanted it now, and her body refused to move from the bed to gather one of the temple prostitutes. Her eyes shut in pleasure as she began to move her fingers between her thighs, and felt a shudder of want as those green eyes seemed to watch from behind her closed eyelids.

* * *

Harphesto moved away from the soldier of the Fiery Hand as the sky began to crack open. His practice sword hung limp at his side as he grinned at the man who had taken the time to train him for the day. "I do believe this ends practice does it not," the thirteen year old asked. He was forced to raise his sword quickly though, his emerald eyes wide as the soldier came at him once more.

"The fight does not stop for rain," the soldier explained as he slammed his own practice blade down upon his students attempt to block. He smirked as the youngster's blade thudded into the soft dirt of the practice field and he swung again, stopping his blade as it kissed the boy's neck. "You are dead, Child of Light," the soldier said with a grin before he backed away and motioned for the raven haired boy to pick his sword up again. "The Red God smiles upon you, but you must continue to earn his grace. Even a god can lose patience with his favored."

"We all must die sometime," Harry countered as he bent low to lift his sword again. Without waiting for the signal to start, he lashed out with the dulled steel, causing his teacher to hop back from the sudden attack. The soldier laughed as he brought his own weapon forward, causing the steel to ring as the blades met between them. The fat drops of rain began to fall faster, turning the soft dirt into slick mud as the two began their dance of war again. "I wonder, just how long can a man your age continue to fight against unbridled youth."

"I'm only twenty and one name days," the soldier said in horror at the implication that he was old. "I'll have you know there are still many whores for me to sheath upon my cock, and I shall only be old when it no longer rises." The swords glanced off one another again as teacher and student parried each others attacks again. "What about you? Ten and three, and still your cock is still dry? I know boy's only ten name days of age who have already released inside a whore at least."

With a growl Harphesto attacked, his own body had begun to build up frustration, but it wasn't something he could so simply remedy. He had tried to visit one of the local whorehouses in Volantis, but it seemed whenever he neared the doors Melisandre would appear to whisk him away for some lesson or another. He swore the red headed woman who had raised him like a mother was trying to keep him blue balled, or possibly to keep him as a joke for men like the one across from him.

"Oh," the man said as he parried Harry's attack and swept in with one of his own. "Perhaps you prefer to bite your pillow, is that it," the man said as his ebony eyes sparkled with mirth. "Is that it? You prefer to be face down, waggling your ass in the air for a real man? Perhaps the Child of Light just wishes for an Ironborn to sheath his drowned cock into your tight," he didn't get to say much more as something, certainly not his opponent's blade, lashed out at him, sending him through the air and against the wall, holding him against the hard stone.

"Watch your tongue," the teen hissed as he held his left hand in the air, using it to focus his magical power against his opponent and keep him pinned. As he began to walk closer to his opponent, he held his sword aloft, its tip aimed at his teacher's throat. "I have no desire to lay with a man you fucking bastard," he growled and jammed the blunt weapon against the man's esophagus. "You're dead," he whispered before moving back, letting the man fall to the ground. "Practice is over, I'm going back inside."

As he turned his back on his opponent he released the force that held his teacher and walked through the rain and mud back toward the temple. As he neared the great obsidian doors, he halted to stare up at the flame like structure, not for the first time admiring the towers, bridges and tunnels as they weaved in out of one another like frozen flame, eternally marked by reds, oranges, and yellows that reached ever higher, and blended together like fire.

As his green eyes stared at the temple of the R'hllor, they slid out of focus as he looked beyond the architecture. A round faced boy slowly faded into his vision, a vulture pecking and clawing at his back as he fought to stand straight. The boy and his attacker began to move crawling and dodging out of the way as a buzzing bee emerged from the shadows, darting back and fro as it's stinger jabbed at his a serpents snout, its fangs bared as it coiled on itself and prepared to attack. Finally, a tome, standing rigid and proud upon a pedestal of books was shredded by a red haired weasel that clawed and chewed upon its pages, hoping to make a nest for itself within the bindings.

Gasping, the young man fell out of his vision, nearly stumbling backwards and down the stairs to the practice field as he eyed the great temple. His emerald eyes clenched shut as he shook his raven mane to clear his mind. He knew he belonged to another world, a world of magic and science. Melisandre had told him everything she knew of Lily Potter's life, from the school called Hogwarts to the remarkable power of electricity. She had even told him of the prophesy as it had been told to Lily, that he would stand against a lord of darkness and be granted a power that the Dark Lord knew not.

Lily had thought that the Dark Lord referred to the demon called Voldemort, the red eyed monster that haunted Harphesto's nightmares. Melisandre though saw it differently, she cared not for the dark wizard in some other world, but the Great Other, the enemy of R'hllor, the god of darkness, cold and death. The Priestesses thought along the same lines as the Red Woman, many even calling him Azor Ahai when he was in lessons. He had come to them in fire, a gift from R'hllor himself, and he would strike down the Great Other with the Lightbringer.

Shoving such thoughts away, he pushed open the door to the temple and ignored the pained screams and billowing black smoke within. He strolled past opened doors to rooms that housed those slaves who refused to convert; men, women and children put to the torch while bound to the heathen gods they refused to stop worshiping. In another life, Harry Potter's stomach would have twisted at such a display, but to Harphesto, it was just another day of life in the temple of R'hllor.

Near the back of the hall, clad in fabrics of various shades of red, the temple whores writhed against each other to the music of pain that filtered through the air. Fingers danced across flesh of various shades as their tongues battled against one another, their carefully kept hair pinned out of their faces as their bodices rubbed together. When they saw him approach though, many smiled languidly and broke away from their lovers as they pawed at their own bodies.

"Milord, will today be the day," one asked in eagerness as her fingers slid beneath the band of her skirt, and her tongue danced across her lips. Her silvery hair was long and beautiful, sweeping over her shoulders, as her eyes, one blue and one green, eyed him hungrily. Rumors held she was of not just Valyrian but Targaryen descent, possibly a descent of Shiera Seastar. He wasn't sure how old she was, she had a magic of her own that gave her an ageless beauty that left the other prostitutes in shame.

The young teen stepped closer to the woman, his hand rising to rest on her heavy breasts, and he almost shut his eyes in elation as he felt her nipple press against his palm. "My dear, Reana, if we are not interrupted, I would try again," he whispered breathlessly as his fingers felt at her breast, squeezing softly and marveling at the soft firmness of her body. He rose up, his heels leaving the ground, as he forced his lips to reach hers, enjoying the taste of her mouth as he softly pushed her back against the wall.

A nearby door opened with a squeal of hinges as one of the Red Priests emerged, ignoring the cries of pain that followed him with the smell of burning flesh. With only a moment of hesitation, Harphesto took the beauty by the hand and led her into the room. With a slam of the heavy door, he turned to take in the woman writhing in pain, her hands and feet bound around the large wooden statue of the Maiden as she cried out in pain, her flesh blackening and her hair shriveling and crinkling in the heat of the flames that had crawled up her gown. He only watched her for a moment before turned back to the whore and dropped to his knees, tossing her long skirt over his head as he began to learn to please a woman with his tongue.

* * *

The heart of winter gripped the stone castle hidden in the Scottish Mountains. Snow blanketed the grounds and the branches of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. Ice had formed a thick barrier on top of the Black Lake, trapping its denizens beneath a frozen cap of murky water. Wind whistles through the cracks in the stone walls and rattled the window shutters as it swept around the tall circular towers that reached for the clouds, and throngs of students moved hastily toward the nearby town of Hogsmeade and the train that would take them home for the winter holidays.

Hidden behind the statue of a gargoyle though, a wizened old man sat hunched over his desk, his long white beard dangling in his lap as his blue eyes scanned the latest findings of his magic, unable to comprehend what it was saying. Years ago, he had taken blood samples of two children, Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, the two children to whom the prophesy he had been given might have meant. One was still around even if he was hampered by the over protectiveness of that was his grandmother, and the other had seemingly vanished.

There was still two years before both boys were scheduled to attend the parents that had taught their children. In those two years, Albus had a lot of work to do, the main focus of which was to find the child who had defeated the Dark Lord. With no one there to see or judge him, Albus Dumbledore fought to rise from his chair, leaving the pages of notes behind as he thought about that Halloween night so many years ago. Hagrid and Sirius Black had returned from Godric's Hollow with the bodies of James and Lily Potter, but no sign of the prophecy child. Sirius' name had been cleared as he admitted to the switch in secret keepers under he influence of Veritaserum, the most powerful truth potion in the world.

Now, Sirius and his friend Remus scoured the globe for any sign of the former's godson, trying to find the child and bring him home, because he certainly wasn't in England. Albus' locator spells always said the same, Harry Potter was alive, but he didn't exist at the same time. It was infuriatingly maddening, but it was a riddle that needed to be solved before Harry was meant to come to Hogwarts. Choosing to ignore the cry of his bones, the Headmaster began to pace the length of his office, his mind, as sharp as ever, running through the thousands of possibilities, carefully whittling away the impossible to focus on everything from the probable to the absurd.

Really, in the back of his mind there was only one hope. The hope that Harry would find his way home before the Dark Lord reemerged.

A knock at his door brought him up short however. Turning his gaze to the aged wooden portal he sighed wearily. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal a young wizard in his mid twenties, wearing obsidian robes and a twinkle in his dark eyes. "I'm so glad I caught you, Albus," Professor Quirrell said with a smile. "I have the papers here that you requested for me to fill out," the teacher who led the Muggle Studies class said as he placed the papers on the older wizards desk. "I wanted to thank you again, you know. For giving me the time off to see the world and then a chance to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post the following year. I can't wait for the opportunity to teach young wizards and witches to defend themselves."

"But of course, Quirinus, of course," Dumbledore said with a smile of his own. He had always been fond of the young student and his desire to help those younger than himself. "This year abroad meeting with different peoples who have been labeled 'dark' should be just the ticket to finishing your Mastery in the subject," he said admirably. "Vampires, werewolves and even Veela, you could learn a lot from them, Quirinus. Don't waste all your time with your jaw on the ground," he said with a chuckle.

* * *

Jasmine's Notes! I wasn't sure where to cut this chapter short at, but this seemed good. I'm hoping to find a Beta-reader if anyone is interested. Once again, reviews are welcome, and I'll be starting right away to get chapter 2 finished, hopefully by tomorrow, but I'm not sure. Should I slow down? I'd like to thank everyone for the positive reviews! Please, keep them coming! Oh, and before I get flooded with people asking, yes, time moves differently between the two worlds.


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